Hi everyone! I am Amu. I am 5 years old. I live in a small beautiful hilly town with my parents and baby brother. I love my small town in summers. It is full of nature’s bounty- snow-peaked mountains which glisten under the bright sunlight, and lush green gardens with blooms of every variety and color possible. On every alternate weekend, my family and I go for picnics to these gardens.

At night, when the weather is calm and pleasant, one can see the clear starlit skies above from the terrace of my house. This is a fun activity I quite often indulge in with my Baba; spending hours looking at the sky, listening to him talk about the faraway world where those tiny twinkling stars live; and gaping curiously at the moonlight-washed silvery, snowy peaks of the mountains spreading far (as far as my eyes could see) in the horizon.

I also love the apple orchard which is just a stone’s throw away from my house. During the harvest season, when the air smells fresh with the sweet scent of juicy, ripe apples, I go with the older children from our neighbourhood to the orchard. Since I am still very small to reach even the lowest of the branches of these heavy fruit-laden trees, I stand and enviously look at other kids from afar, plucking and biting joyously into the sweet and sour firm flesh of these partially red and green fruits. However, being the smallest in the group is not always so bad you know; sometimes I get lucky when one of the kids take notice of me and offers a fruit or two from their prized self-plucked collections.

I think I am fortunate to have been born in a place which is amply surrounded by nature’s abundance. I am also lucky to have parents who adore me. However, things have changed a little since the past few months. After the birth of my baby brother, I think my parents don’t love me as much as they used to before. Don’t get me wrong, I am not envious of my brother, in fact I love him, and think he has the most adorable smile in the world. But there are times when I can’t help but hate him too, especially when he wets or soils his nappies and keeps Ma awake all night. He also has occupied the space, which earlier belonged solely to me, next to Ma on the bed. When Ma scolds me for talking too loud and waking my brother up or even trying to pick him up from the bed with my tiny hands, Baba consoles me by telling that Ma is very tired, hence I should not trouble her. It breaks my heart for not being able to stay close to Ma as much and often as I used to before. But I guess, I have to get used to this new restriction, lest my parents will start loving me even lesser than they already do now.

Today is Sunday, but unlike other holidays, Ma and Baba are in a very sombre mood this morning. They both had to take turns in staying awake with my little brother who was running high fever since last night. I am little upset with this unusually quiet atmosphere today. Baba quietly helped me change into my red pyjamas. It is my favourite outfit because it has little white flowers and blue butterflies. But why everyone is so quiet today? Sundays are supposed to be fun, right? Tired of this discomforting silence in the house, I went to Ma in the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“Ma, can I have some walnuts please?” I asked gingerly, hoping this would change her mood instantly and she will be her normal smiling self again. By the way, I love walnuts.

“No Amu, I am sorry, I completely forgot to buy it yesterday from the market. Why don’t you go and get some from Khanna auntie?” she said while pointing at the empty jar of dry fruits, next to the big round glass jar of cookies placed on the lowest shelf of the kitchen.

Ah! Ma finally spoke to me. Filled with a sense of joy, I immediately ran towards Khanna auntie’s house. Auntie was sitting in her garden with her eyes closed.

‘Hmm, she’s enjoying her late morning siesta,’ I thought to myself. Khanna auntie has two grownup sons who live in some faraway city, which is bigger than our sleepy little town.

“Auntie, Ma has sent me to ask if you have walnuts in your house,” I blurted hesitatingly, feeling little guilty for waking her up from her peaceful nap under the balmy summer sun.

She lazily opened her eyes and gave me a beaming smile. I am quite fond of her and love it when she looks at me affectionately.

“Yes, go inside the house and ask Khanna uncle, he will give you walnuts my child,” she answered sleepily and then sank back to her Sunday morning siesta ritual again.

I dashed inside her house calling “K..h..a..n..n..a U…n...c….l...e”.

“I am here Amu,” he called me from his bedroom. I ran towards the bedroom.

Uncle was lying horizontally on his bed with both his feet languorously resting on the bedside carpet. He is a tall, well-built man with a receding hairline and slightly yellowish teeth.

He looked up and waved his hands at me, gesturing me to come closer. I went and stood near the corner of the bed, and started explaining the reason behind my sudden purposeful Sunday morning visit to his house.

“Uncle, auntie has told me to ask for walnuts from you.”

He got up from the bed, picked me up with his sweaty, pudgy, hairy hands and made me sit on his lap and went back to that same languid horizontal position again.

I am starting to get a little restless now. I don’t think I am very fond of this man.

Anyway, brushing those thoughts aside, I chatted on, “Uncle, please hurry up, give me the walnuts, I need to go back home, my parents must be waiting for me.”

Suddenly, I noticed uncle was trying to undo the drawstring of his pyjamas. And before I could think of anything, I was on top of his crotch area. I can feel something disgustingly fleshy underneath my favourite red woollen pyjamas, which Baba helped me wear after I woke up in the morning.

I have an uneasy feeling….I am too scared to talk.

I think there is a lump stuck somewhere in my throat, making it harder for me to speak.

I think I am going to throw up. I am very frightened to even speak.

It’s my fault. Why did I come here? I want to go home again, to my Ma, Baba. But uncle wouldn’t let me go. He is holding both my wrists tightly with his sweaty, pudgy, hairy hands. I don’t like him. He looks scary.

“UNCLE, I have to go to my house, my Ma is calling,” I said while struggling to free myself from his tight sweaty grip. “Maaaa,” I shouted. And before he could react, I climbed down and was out of his room, sprinting towards the main door, brushing past auntie, who, I guess, is still dozing under the balmy Sunday morning sun.

I opened the gate and ran towards my house.

I can feel my eyes getting all moist and watery. Is that a tear, which just trickled down my cheeks? It felt cold on my face. I think, I am crying now, but I have to do it silently, I cannot make a noise. I am trying to muffle the noise, struggling hard to suppress it.

Shall I tell my parents about what just happened in Khanna auntie’s bedroom?

Will my parents still love me after I tell them about what happened?

As it is, they have been troubled with my brother, and love me a little lesser than they used to, earlier.

What just happened between me and Khanna uncle was my fault?

But I didn’t do any of the things that I normally get scolded for. My parents get upset with me when I refuse to finish my glass of milk, or don’t have my meal, or cry or even talk louder than usual and wake my brother up, or even going to the apple orchard without telling them, or refuse to finish my tasks at school.

I didn’t do any of that today. But I still feel I have done something wrong.

As I reached the front porch of my house, I wiped the tears off my face.

I opened the door and stepped inside the living room, I saw Baba looking up from his newspaper. And I saw the love and indulgence in his eyes which I am so very familiar with. I have longed to see this for the past few months.

Ma also came out of the kitchen smiling at me. I ran and climbed on Baba’s lap, he hugged me right away. Ma too joined in our little fun by stroking my hair with her fingers. I feel safe now.

“What’s the matter Amu? Are you scared? Are you crying my child? Did you not get the walnuts from Khanna Auntie?” Ma enquired, with her usual caring self.

“Baba and I will go to the market and buy walnuts for you in the evening. Now, don’t cry, my love.”

‘No, I don’t want walnuts…..I hate them,’ I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t. I will never ask for walnuts again. Never.

Ma looked a little concerned for a few seconds, but was soon distracted by my brother’s cry. She rushed to the room where my brother was sleeping.

I decided not to talk about the incident, which took place a few minutes back, to Ma and Baba. In fact, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it, ever.

I think I’ve done something wrong.

It was my fault, I feel guilty for what just happened at Khanna Auntie’s house.

Amu

Hi everyone! I am Amu. I am 5 years old. I live in a small beautiful hilly town with my parents and baby brother. I love my small town in summers. It is full of nature’s bounty- snow-peaked mountains which glisten under the bright sunlight, and lush green gardens with blooms of every variety and color possible. On every alternate weekend, my family and I go for picnics to these gardens.

At night, when the weather is calm and pleasant, one can see the clear starlit skies above from the terrace of my house. This is a fun activity I quite often indulge in with my Baba; spending hours looking at the sky, listening to him talk about the faraway world where those tiny twinkling stars live; and gaping curiously at the moonlight-washed silvery, snowy peaks of the mountains spreading far (as far as my eyes could see) in the horizon.

I also love the apple orchard which is just a stone’s throw away from my house. During the harvest season, when the air smells fresh with the sweet scent of juicy, ripe apples, I go with the older children from our neighbourhood to the orchard. Since I am still very small to reach even the lowest of the branches of these heavy fruit-laden trees, I stand and enviously look at other kids from afar, plucking and biting joyously into the sweet and sour firm flesh of these partially red and green fruits. However, being the smallest in the group is not always so bad you know; sometimes I get lucky when one of the kids take notice of me and offers a fruit or two from their prized self-plucked collections.

I think I am fortunate to have been born in a place which is amply surrounded by nature’s abundance. I am also lucky to have parents who adore me. However, things have changed a little since the past few months. After the birth of my baby brother, I think my parents don’t love me as much as they used to before. Don’t get me wrong, I am not envious of my brother, in fact I love him, and think he has the most adorable smile in the world. But there are times when I can’t help but hate him too, especially when he wets or soils his nappies and keeps Ma awake all night. He also has occupied the space, which earlier belonged solely to me, next to Ma on the bed. When Ma scolds me for talking too loud and waking my brother up or even trying to pick him up from the bed with my tiny hands, Baba consoles me by telling that Ma is very tired, hence I should not trouble her. It breaks my heart for not being able to stay close to Ma as much and often as I used to before. But I guess, I have to get used to this new restriction, lest my parents will start loving me even lesser than they already do now.

Today is Sunday, but unlike other holidays, Ma and Baba are in a very sombre mood this morning. They both had to take turns in staying awake with my little brother who was running high fever since last night. I am little upset with this unusually quiet atmosphere today. Baba quietly helped me change into my red pyjamas. It is my favourite outfit because it has little white flowers and blue butterflies. But why everyone is so quiet today? Sundays are supposed to be fun, right? Tired of this discomforting silence in the house, I went to Ma in the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“Ma, can I have some walnuts please?” I asked gingerly, hoping this would change her mood instantly and she will be her normal smiling self again. By the way, I love walnuts.

“No Amu, I am sorry, I completely forgot to buy it yesterday from the market. Why don’t you go and get some from Khanna auntie?” she said while pointing at the empty jar of dry fruits, next to the big round glass jar of cookies placed on the lowest shelf of the kitchen.

Ah! Ma finally spoke to me. Filled with a sense of joy, I immediately ran towards Khanna auntie’s house. Auntie was sitting in her garden with her eyes closed.

‘Hmm, she’s enjoying her late morning siesta,’ I thought to myself. Khanna auntie has two grownup sons who live in some faraway city, which is bigger than our sleepy little town.

“Auntie, Ma has sent me to ask if you have walnuts in your house,” I blurted hesitatingly, feeling little guilty for waking her up from her peaceful nap under the balmy summer sun.

She lazily opened her eyes and gave me a beaming smile. I am quite fond of her and love it when she looks at me affectionately.

“Yes, go inside the house and ask Khanna uncle, he will give you walnuts my child,” she answered sleepily and then sank back to her Sunday morning siesta ritual again.

I dashed inside her house calling “K..h..a..n..n..a U…n...c….l...e”.

“I am here Amu,” he called me from his bedroom. I ran towards the bedroom.

Uncle was lying horizontally on his bed with both his feet languorously resting on the bedside carpet. He is a tall, well-built man with a receding hairline and slightly yellowish teeth.

He looked up and waved his hands at me, gesturing me to come closer. I went and stood near the corner of the bed, and started explaining the reason behind my sudden purposeful Sunday morning visit to his house.

“Uncle, auntie has told me to ask for walnuts from you.”

He got up from the bed, picked me up with his sweaty, pudgy, hairy hands and made me sit on his lap and went back to that same languid horizontal position again.

I am starting to get a little restless now. I don’t think I am very fond of this man.

Anyway, brushing those thoughts aside, I chatted on, “Uncle, please hurry up, give me the walnuts, I need to go back home, my parents must be waiting for me.”

Suddenly, I noticed uncle was trying to undo the drawstring of his pyjamas. And before I could think of anything, I was on top of his crotch area. I can feel something disgustingly fleshy underneath my favourite red woollen pyjamas, which Baba helped me wear after I woke up in the morning.

I have an uneasy feeling….I am too scared to talk.

I think there is a lump stuck somewhere in my throat, making it harder for me to speak.

I think I am going to throw up. I am very frightened to even speak.

It’s my fault. Why did I come here? I want to go home again, to my Ma, Baba. But uncle wouldn’t let me go. He is holding both my wrists tightly with his sweaty, pudgy, hairy hands. I don’t like him. He looks scary.

“UNCLE, I have to go to my house, my Ma is calling,” I said while struggling to free myself from his tight sweaty grip. “Maaaa,” I shouted. And before he could react, I climbed down and was out of his room, sprinting towards the main door, brushing past auntie, who, I guess, is still dozing under the balmy Sunday morning sun.

I opened the gate and ran towards my house.

I can feel my eyes getting all moist and watery. Is that a tear, which just trickled down my cheeks? It felt cold on my face. I think, I am crying now, but I have to do it silently, I cannot make a noise. I am trying to muffle the noise, struggling hard to suppress it.

Shall I tell my parents about what just happened in Khanna auntie’s bedroom?

Will my parents still love me after I tell them about what happened?

As it is, they have been troubled with my brother, and love me a little lesser than they used to, earlier.

What just happened between me and Khanna uncle was my fault?

But I didn’t do any of the things that I normally get scolded for. My parents get upset with me when I refuse to finish my glass of milk, or don’t have my meal, or cry or even talk louder than usual and wake my brother up, or even going to the apple orchard without telling them, or refuse to finish my tasks at school.

I didn’t do any of that today. But I still feel I have done something wrong.

As I reached the front porch of my house, I wiped the tears off my face.

I opened the door and stepped inside the living room, I saw Baba looking up from his newspaper. And I saw the love and indulgence in his eyes which I am so very familiar with. I have longed to see this for the past few months.

Ma also came out of the kitchen smiling at me. I ran and climbed on Baba’s lap, he hugged me right away. Ma too joined in our little fun by stroking my hair with her fingers. I feel safe now.

“What’s the matter Amu? Are you scared? Are you crying my child? Did you not get the walnuts from Khanna Auntie?” Ma enquired, with her usual caring self.

“Baba and I will go to the market and buy walnuts for you in the evening. Now, don’t cry, my love.”

‘No, I don’t want walnuts…..I hate them,’ I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t. I will never ask for walnuts again. Never.

Ma looked a little concerned for a few seconds, but was soon distracted by my brother’s cry. She rushed to the room where my brother was sleeping.

I decided not to talk about the incident, which took place a few minutes back, to Ma and Baba. In fact, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it, ever.

I think I’ve done something wrong.

It was my fault, I feel guilty for what just happened at Khanna Auntie’s house.